


Rook Land

by Huffleporg



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Real World, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Curious Archer - Freeform, Mr Gold goes by Weaver for reasons to be explained, Multi, Mystery, Season Seven Inspired, Single Father Killian, knight rook
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-03-17 03:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13650117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huffleporg/pseuds/Huffleporg
Summary: Killian Jones already thought that his once steady world had been shaken up by his teenage daughter's mischief and rebellion. Little did he expect that a new sheriff and her quest to find a missing boy would truly turn everything upside down.





	1. Suspension Day

Detective Jones let out a swear when he saw the familiar number on the buzzing cell phone’s screen. Even if he had never bothered to actually put the number into his contacts, Killian Jones knew exactly who was calling him. “Detective Jones,” he sighed as he put the phone up to his ear. Already he could feel a headache coming on even before the secretary of Storybrooke High School’s principal began to fill him in on just what had happened this time. He squeezed his eyes shut and began to rub the bridge of his nose. “I understand completely. I’ll be right down. Thanks, Shirley.” 

As he hung up the phone, Killian leaned back in his desk chair and groaned loudly. He covered his face with his hand that still clasped the cell phone, his prosthetic resting on the arm rest. 

“Nine-forty,” came a voice from across the room. “I believe that’s a record for Alice.”

Peaking between his fingers at his partner, Killian said, “I can’t believe you actually keep track, Weaver.”

Detective Weaver shrugged his shoulders. “It’s off season. Got to keep myself entertained somehow.” 

Their work did always slow down as fall began to feel like winter in Rockland and the tourists stopped coming up, but Killian still thought it was a poor justification for keeping track of the amount of times that the high school called about his daughter. “Might I recommend an app,” said Killian getting to his feet and picking up his heavy winter jacket. “I’ve heard Angry Birds is still fun. Good way to pass the time. No longer have to rely on Tetris or Minesweeper to keep yourself busy.”

His partner let out a laugh. “I’d rather kiss the Captain,” he said.

“Speaking of,” said Killian as he pulled on his hat, “if she comes by, cover for me.” He wrapped his red scarf around his neck. 

Going back to his paperwork, Weaver said, “I’ll consider it.”

Killian let out a sigh. With Weaver, it was next to impossible to know just what to expect. Even after a few years of working with the man, Killian was still frequently surprised and sometimes even shocked by what his partner did and said. When he had joined the force, Killian had heard tales of the eccentric and often erratic detective of the Rockland Police Department. Killian hadn’t believed half the stories he had heard back then, especially not after seeing the detective with Alice, but now he put nothing past Detective M. R. Weaver. 

“Well, I would sincerely appreciate it if you did,” he said. He zipped up his jacket. “Last time she was none too pleased I had to miss over an hour.” It was over an hour of nothing, time that he would have spent doing paperwork, but Captain Mills rarely took such matters into consideration.

“I think you can handle her,” remarked Weaver. 

Only offering his partner a parting wave, Killian left the detectives’ office and hurried through the building, out through the front doors and to the back parking lot. 

The thirty minute drive from the Rockland to Storybrooke was one that Killian could do in his sleep. For the past twelve years since he had moved to Storybrooke from Portland, he had made the drive almost every single day from the town to the tiny city of Rockland, Maine. Since Alice had started high school, however, and she had started getting in trouble, Killian had found himself making too many unplanned trips from the police department to his hometown high school for his liking.

***

“Needless to say,” said Killian as the emerged from the principal’s office, “in addition to suspended, you’re grounded.”

Even though her back was to him, Killian knew that Alice was rolling her eyes as they started walking towards the main doors. “Naturally,” she said. “These days, that’s how everything ends up.” She zipped up her olive green jacket and pulled the hood over her blonde curls.

“Yes, and I wonder just why that is.” Sarcasm dripped off the father’s voice. He pushed the front doors of the high school open and started down the salted sidewalk, scattering the large crystals of blue salt with each step.

“Not my fault that all the fun stuff is against the rules,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. She turned around to face her father, walking backwards. “And that no one at the school has any sense of humor whatsoever!” She held out her hands in a shrug through her jacket. 

Killian Jones ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “No,” he said, “no. Funny is a well told joke or witticism. Funny is standing behind someone and miming like you used to do in elementary school. That was adorable.” Very disrespectful in a lot of cases, yes, but it had been cute to see his daughter standing behind someone and making silly faces and gestures, making it close to impossible to keep a straight face. “What you’re doing is going to wind you up in juvie.” They reached his unmarked police car, and Killian opened up the door. 

“Well, I thought it was funny,” said Alice opening the passenger door and sitting down. “And I wasn’t the only person who thought that!”

“Doesn’t matter what you or your classmates think,” sighed Killian. He got in and buckled his own seat belt. “Trying to steal the DARE officer’s handcuffs and then calling him a ‘pig’ when he caught you…” He shook his head, still unable to fathom just what had possessed his daughter to do such a rude thing. She had always been respectful when it came to police officers and other law enforcement personnel. When she was little, she had even been heard to say that she wanted to be a police officer just like her papa. This, therefore, was a complete departure from what he had come to expect from his daughter. But then again, ever since September, she had been surprising him in less than pleasant ways. 

Before he continued, Killian started the car and backed-up. As he pulled out of the high school parking lot, he said, “You’re really lucky that he decided to just let the school and I handle your punishment, since he ‘knows what it’s like to have a rebellious teenager.’” Killian doubted that Officer Flynn had quite the same problems with quiet, nerdy Owen as he was having with Alice, he had been relieved that the Storybrooke police officer hadn’t thought it necessary for the law to get involved. He supposed that that was one of the perks of living in a very small town. “Why did you even try to steal the handcuffs?” he asked finally.

Alice leaned back in her seat, looking up at the ceiling. “Wanted to show someone the trick I know to get out of them,” she mumbled. 

Killian shook his head, remembering how he had let Alice play with his handcuffs back when she was younger and how she had even figured out a way to escape them. “You can’t just take a policeman’s cuffs, Alice.”

“He was standing there. Complete serendipity. How could I not!”

“Easily. You exercise self-control. You ask yourself, ‘is this a good idea? Will I get into trouble? Does this break any rules or laws?’ It’s what most people do on a daily basis.” And she used to be fairly good at it for a willful child. Killian turned onto the highway to head back to Rockland.

Alice pointed out the window. “We’re not going home?”

“I can’t take the rest of the day off just because you’ve lost your better judgement,” Killian said. And he certainly couldn’t afford to take off of the rest of the week that she would be required to stay out of school. Taking her home after the other times she had gotten in trouble hadn’t worked, so he knew he needed a new approach. “Besides, it seems a fitting punishment that you should spend the week at the police station.” He grinned a little at the before now unrealized appropriateness of an impromptu ‘bring your daughter to work’ week. 

This was hardly the first time he had brought his daughter to the Rockland Police Station. It was hardly the best place for an overly curious little girl and later on an adventurous preteen, but for times when he couldn’t find a sitter or couldn’t afford to send her to day camp for the whole summer, he had little choice but to bring her to work with him. Between himself, his fellow officers, and the other support staff keeping an eye on the station’s ‘mascot’, Alice had definitely been safe. The issue had always been the mischief she could get up to. Killian knew that this week, he was going to have to keep an extra sharp eye on the fourteen-year-old. 

The only response Killian got was a huff and cold stare from his daughter. Killian had never enjoyed being the bad guy when it came to parenting, whether it was telling her in the grocery store that he wasn’t going to buy her the sugary cereal she had had at a friend’s house or if it was punishing her when she misbehaved. But, he had never had the choice of picking whether or not he would be the good cop or the bad cop this time around. It had always just been him and Alice, which left him to fill in all the roles that normally were shared between two parents. It was hardly the ideal state, but Killian preferred it over all the alternatives.

As he parked the car in the police station parking lot, Killian said, “I know you’re not thrilled about this but I’m not thrilled about this…” He waved his hand in the air. “This… thing you’re doing. I don’t like getting calls at work because you’re misbehaving. I don’t like seeing you get suspended. I don’t like worrying that maybe this time they’ll float the idea of you going to another school.” He truly hoped it never came to that, but Alice had years to go at Storybrooke High School. At the rate she was going, there was no way she was going to get to senior year attending the school. 

Alice unbuckled her belt and turned so she was facing her father, propping herself up from the seat with an elbow. “Is M.R. working today?” she asked, running her fingers through her hair. “I’m gonna need his help for my social studies paper. He was there in Vietnam, so he probably has some stories that can help me pull my word count up. I’m five hundred short.”

“Alice,” sighed Killian. He wasn’t sure if he should comment on how she shouldn’t change the subject, or if he ought to tell her not to bring up a subject that he had only ever heard Weaver mention twice in their years of working together, since it was clearly a touchy subject. 

“What? Don’t tell me you want me to neglect my studies,” she said, pretending to sound shocked and appalled. 

With a shake of his head, Killian opened the car door. “Let’s go inside,” he said. He had spent enough time away from work, and there was no way of knowing whether or not Weaver had actually decided to cover for him. Killian glanced of the shoulder to see Alice emerging from the car, pulling her backpack along with her.

Getting through the police station all the way to his office proved trickier than he had thought. It seemed like everyone he and Alice encountered wanted to cheerfully greet the girl and ask just what she was doing here on a school day, wondering if she had a holiday or if she was feeling alright. Killian had had to sigh and interrupt before Alice could say anything to explain that this wasn’t a vacation day or that they were waiting for a doctor’s appointment later - no, this was a punishment, because yet again, Alice had gotten into trouble. That had stopped a few folks short, surprised that the little girl they had seen grow up was actually a rebellious teen now. Leroy the janitor had started laughing, which had only made Alice grin and join in. 

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her the rest of the way to his and Weaver’s office. “Remember, you’re being punished. So that means I have your phone for the rest of the day. And if you use my computer its for school.”

“But what if I want to use my phone for school?” said Alice.

He gave his daughter a sidelong look before pushing the door to the office open.

“M.R.!” exclaimed Alice, pushing past her father. She hurried over to the older detective’s desk. Killian wasn’t surprised to see Weaver smiling at Alice.

“Alice,” Weaver said, moving a box off the chair beside his desk so she could sit, “heard you got in trouble at school, again.”

Alice shrugged her shoulders and set her backpack down on the floor. “It happens.” She flopped down into the chair and picked up the rubber band ball she had made for the detective when she was eight from his desk.

“Normally I’m all for giving your father a headache-”

“Thanks, Weaver,” shot Killian sarcastically, hanging up his coat. “Good to know you’ve got my back always.” 

The old man smirked. “But really, dearie, you’ve picked a particularly terrible time.”

Killian froze. “What happened?” He hadn’t been gone for too long, and he had had the radio and his phone on during the drive. Could he have missed something big? Very few big things ever happened up here this time of year, but still, they did happen. 

Weaver waved his hand. “Nothing catastrophic, Jones. Just that the Captain is going to be coming around with a guest.”

Killian sat down at his desk and woke up his computer. “Who?”

“That newly elected Sheriff,” said Weaver. “Evidently she’s got some ideas as to how the Sheriff’s station and the Police Department can collaborate… or something to that effect. Ruby wasn’t exactly sure on the details, but the point is that the Captain is going to be showing her around soon. You’re lucky you got back so quickly. I’m sure Captain Mills would be thrilled to show the Sheriff her station only to find that one of her detectives had gone AWOL.” 

Realizing how close he had come to getting on the sore side of one of the least understanding persons around, Killian ran his fingers through his hair. He looked down at his desk littered with paperwork and pictures of Alice. Hearing the snap of a rubber band, he looked up at his daughter, still playing with the rubber band ball.

“Good thing we made it back in time then,” she said brightly. 

Shaking his head, Killian logged back into his computer and pulled up the paperwork that he had been filling out when he had gotten the call from the school. He knew that he had lost some valuable time in the day and it would be hard to make it up, but if he at least tried to catch up, it wouldn’t be so bad.

He heard the door open before he could finish his first report. Though he couldn’t see the door from where his desk was, due to the shape of the room, Killian looked up, knowing that after only a few steps whoever had come in would appear. He didn’t need to wait that long even. 

“And here we have our two detectives,” said the familiarly disdainful voice of the Captain.

“Hello, Regina!” said Alice, smirking a little at such casual disrespect towards authority through inappropriate familiarity.

The middle aged woman pursed her lips, an expression that Killian had seen on his boss’s face countless times since she had been promoted. She looked back over her shoulder to speak to the Sheriff still standing out of Killian’s sightlines. “And their progeny,” Regina amended. Turning her attention back to Alice, Regina said, “I don’t recall what holiday it is today, but there must be one, unless there’s another reason you’re here.”

“Suspension Day?” joked Alice.

Regina shook her head and turned to Killian. As he met her coal-like eyes, Killian could see that there was some snide insult that would be phrased as a joke on the tip of her tongue. Watching her lip twitch, Killian wished that she would just let out whatever had come to her mind, whether it be a quip about his ability to raise Alice as a single father or whether she would express fake concern over just what sorts of things Alice could be getting up to following in his footsteps. 

Instead, Regina’s companion spoke. “A holiday I remember well.” The voice was light, as if the woman was smiling. 

Finally the Sheriff stepped into view. 

“Detective Weaver, Detective Jones,” said Regina, smoothing over her expression, “allow me to introduce Sheriff Swan.”

“Really, there’s no need for introductions,” said Weaver, getting to his feet. “We are all familiar with Sheriff Swan from her campaign.” He looked over at the blonde woman. “A well fought campaign. I didn’t vote for you myself, but I don’t vote.” 

“I won’t take it personally, then,” the Sheriff said, folding her arms. 

Considering the final vote tallies, Killian was pretty sure that even if Weaver and fifty of his friends had decided to vote for Sydney Glass, Swan still would have the sheriff’s badge pinned to her chest. 

“It’s good to be meeting the both of you,” said the Sheriff, green eyes sweeping from Detective Weaver to Killian. “I know that traditionally our departments have worked separately, but I think that our community will be best served by everyone working together, rather than apart.”

Killian saw the Sheriff’s eyes flick down to where his left hand should have been. Reflexively, Killian put his black hand in his lap, the back of his ears beginning to turn pink.

The woman paused, clearly flustered. Her gaze shifted quickly back to Weaver. “I have a few projects that I am very interested in getting started that I believe you both will be able to help with.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crisp business card. She walked over to Weaver’s desk, but before she could hand it to the man, Alice reached up to grab it. “That is my number and email,” she said, hesitating. 

Weaver took the ivory card from Alice and placed it on his desk. “One of us will give you a call when time permits,” he said smoothly, as if he actually meant it.

Sheriff Swan slowly nodded before wordlessly heading back to the corridor.

After one last final disapproving glance around the office, Regina too walked away. Out of sight, the door clicked firmly shut. 

“She’s cute,” said Alice with a grin. When met with the silence and disapproving stares of the two detectives, Alice quickly added, “What? I can’t be the only one who noticed?”

Killian had certainly noticed. He had noticed the first time he had seen her face in the article in newspaper saying that Sheriff Graham’s recently appointed deputy would be campaigning to replace him after his sudden death. He had noticed her sharp chin and graceful curls. It had hardly been a picture that had done her justice, he had later realized when he had attended the debate between Sydney Glass and Emma Swan. No, that picture had failed to capture so much about her. The life in her eyes, the determination in her voice, the sheer stubbornness of will that had come through and won his vote. Now as he sat at his desk, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed in Sheriff Swan.

“She’s an outsider with a project,” said Weaver, crumpling up the business card. “In my experience that always means trouble.” He shook his head. “What she looks like is irrelevant.” 

“We were outsiders once,” said Alice defensively.

Weaver gave one of his weak, hollow laughs that only managed to raise the corners of one side of his mouth. “You were a toddler with a teenage father who let you eat marmalade out of the jar. No, Sheriff Swan is an entirely different entity.” He tossed the balled up cardstock into the trash bin by his desk.

"That was only a couple of times," mumbled Killian from his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! I know you're probably thinking, 'Morgan, you've got so many WIP, why are you starting this new one?' but really, in my defense, I couldn't resist this story. After wondering what it might have been like had Wish Hook chose to kept the white elephant, a whole universe began to take shape. And it was only natural that Emma would find her way there.
> 
> This fic was published as part of Wish Hook Week week, even if it's not exactly Wish Hook. Whoops. :) I just love me some Knight Rook.
> 
> All in all, I had no choice but to write this fic (and publish it this week).
> 
> Please let me know what you think! It's been ages since I've written anything resembling a mystery, so I'm hoping it reads well.  
> -Morgan


	2. Disappearing Acts

He had refused to give her phone back to her until after dinner. Alice had spent the meal either looking over to the counter where her father had placed both their phones, or glowering at him across the spaghetti and meatballs. After he had spent the whole day telling her off and telling her to focus on keeping up with her school work instead of talking to M.R. or wandering around the department, Alice found she had little she wanted to say to her father. At least, the only things that she could think of to say she was fairly sure would make him decide not to give her phone back until tomorrow, and that was something that Alice was too scared of. 

As her father started to clear the table and Alice began to put the leftovers away in reused take out containers, a familiar buzzing came from the counter behind her. Alice spun around to see her phone screen lit up. 

“It’s after dinner,” said Alice quickly, looking over at her father who similarly had noticed the arrival of the text message. “So, can I have it back now?” She smiled hopefully.

Returning his attention to rinsing the plates off before loading them into the dishwasher, Killian Jones said, “Finish putting the leftovers away then you can have your phone back.”

Even though her bad mood had made her less hungry than usual, Alice set a new record for putting away their leftovers. By the end, she was sure that at least a quarter of the spaghetti had wound up on the table or on the floor, but she was past caring. Before her father could lecture her about wasting food, she hurried over to the counter and grabbed her phone.

As she ran through the hall and then clomped up the stairs, she was vaguely aware of her father calling out to her.

“Don’t stay up too late! I’m taking it back in the morning!”

“Sure, okay,” Alice yelled down, not even caring what her father had just said. All that mattered to her was the fact that she could finally see whether or not _she_ had noticed. On the upstairs landing, she pushed the door to her room open. She didn’t even bother taking her boots off as she belly flopped onto the bed. Finally, she could do what she had been aching for all day long.

She pressed her thumb to the button, allowing the screen to light up again and unlock. Quickly, she began to scroll through her notifications. Though usually Alice would have immediately opened the chess app to make moves on the games she was playing, today she just zipped past the notifications that it was her turn to move in various matches. Instead, she was searching for a sign that she had been paying attention. 

She had been sitting there in the cafeteria for study hall, reading The Canterbury Tales, only a few tables away from where she had been sitting with Bill and Will. As soon as Alice had realized that, she hadn’t been able to focus on her algebra homework. Bill and Will hadn’t minded an excuse to start talking and joking, and then one thing had led to another, the way it usually did with the three of them, and she had found herself being led out of the cafeteria by a very disgruntled Officer Flynn and apoplectic study hall proctor. She had looked back over her shoulder, hoping to see her watching, hoping she’d be smiling in amusement. But no, Ivy Belfry had kept reading on. 

Hours later as she scrolled past messages from Bill, Will, and Dinah, Alice bit her lip.

Finally, she saw Ivy’s name.

A warmth spread through her stomach as she began to read the messages she had missed.

_Where are you? Mr. Bloom already marked you late._

Less than an hour after the first one had been sent, _Did you really get in trouble ~again~?_ followed.

A wide grin crept up on Alice’s face, melting away all the annoyance of the day. As she read through the messages again, Alice imagined Ivy going throughout the day, worrying about her because she hadn’t showed up to sit next to her in math. Ivy had been thinking about her. It was enough to bring a pink flush to Alice’s cheeks. 

Before she could lose her nerve, Alice quickly typed, _Yep! Didn’t you see? It was in study hall_. For a few minutes, Alice laid there like a seal, staring at the screen, willing the grey ellipsis to appear on the screen. As her back and abs began to protest, she began to notice the shuffling noise coming from her rabbit’s cage. “Oh right,” she said, getting to her feet. “Dinner time, Roger.” 

By the time she had finished feeding her rabbit and picked up her phone again, she had a message waiting for her. 

_Sorry. Was it because of Bill and Will?_

_They were there_ , replied Alice without any hesitation.

For breathless moments, Alice waited, watching the ellipses dance.

_I don’t know why you put up with them. You can do better than Tweedledee and Tweedledum._

As if the wind had been knocked out of her sails, Alice sank down onto the bed. She read the message over again, hoping that she would somehow sense the joke behind it or that Ivy would send another message, clarifying the misunderstanding. 

_They’re my friends_ Alice started to type before deleting it. Again, she tried to type, but she stopped when she saw that Ivy was replying.

_Maybe next study hall we can sit together and you can explain the homework to me. Should keep you out of trouble._

The heat returned to Alice’s cheeks well before the winking emoji appeared. 

Before Alice could even begin to think of how to respond, the door to her bedroom opened. Even though she knew that there was only one person it could be, Alice jumped a little, heart racing.

“Sorry to startle you,” apologized Killian, sticking his head in from the hallway.

“Knock next time.” It was a comment she had made often enough to know her father probably never would remember, intentionally or not. Alice put her phone screen down on the bed. “What? Do you need help with something?” Though her father had long ago stopped asking for her help for a lot of tasks, there were still plenty of things that her father hadn’t managed to figure out even though it had been years since the accident. She got up, fully expecting him to start talking about something heavy that needed to be lifted or the like. 

“No,” said Killian softly with a smile. “I just wanted to say good night.” He gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head, the way he had every night when she had been little. 

“Okay then,” she said with an amused laugh. “Do I get a story too?” 

Her father shook his head. “No, not unless you want to hear the story about the princess who got in so much trouble she gave her father an aneurysm?” he joked.

“Nah, I think I heard it this morning.” 

“Goodnight, Alice,” he said. “I believe in you.” 

“Goodnight, Papa,” replied Alice, a lump rising in her throat. 

As the door closed, Alice looked back at her phone, even more lost.

***

Killian hadn’t been expecting the first full day of Alice’s suspension to go any better than the previous day. He had only been mildly annoyed when Alice had revealed she had “forgot” her math textbook when they were more than halfway between Storybrooke and Rockland. He had anticipated some degree of shenanigans from his daughter, so he had factored in a few extra minutes to his commute. They had only arrived fifteen minutes late, which considering Alice’s habitual lateness, was hardly the worst time he had ever made with his daughter in tow. He had hoped the antics would stop once he got her settled, but his hope had been misplaced.

First it had been that there was a draft at the table where she had sat the day before. Then it was that the makeshift desk that she had made of the windowsill was too small for her sketch pad, preventing her from being able to do her art homework. After Killian had convinced her to try another subject for the time being, she had decided the only way she could read _To Kill A Mockingbird_ was out loud in a remarkably close Southern accent, Killian had found it necessary to leave the office and find Leroy. It hadn’t taken much effort to convince him to unlock a conference room for Alice.

“If you need me, you know I’m just down the hall,” said Killian as he set Alice’s heavy backpack down on the floor.

Alice glanced around the conference room, frowning. “At least the table’s big enough for drawing,” she said. She dropped the drawing pad on the table with a thunk. “Not much else to recommend it.”

“On the contrary, love, it’s perfect,” he said. “You can read out loud without disturbing anyone. There’s no windows, so there’s no draft. You can get your work done here for the morning, and then we’ll go to Granny’s for lunch. Does that sound good?”

At the mention of Granny’s Diner, the girl perked up. “Sounds delicious.” 

“Okay then.” He gave her a smile, glad that Alice was no longer fighting him on this relocation. “I’ll see you in a bit. Good luck with your homework.” He closed the door to the conference room behind him as he left to return to the Detective’s offices.

“Alice is settled now,” began Killian as he walked into the room, only to realize that he was speaking to an empty office. He shook his head, figuring that his partner had been called away or else had decided to get another cup of coffee. 

Killian sat down at his desk, knowing that finally he would be able to get some work done without Alice grousing in the background. He jiggled the mouse back and forth to wake up his computer, humming a little to himself a song he had forgotten the words to. He clicked the web browser on the desktop and waited for the homepage to pop up. As soon as it had, he found himself frowning. It wasn’t the city’s website that was the default on every computer owned by the government. No, it was the familiarity of the page he had seen thousands of times that had highlighted the addition to the site. “When the bloody hell did we get a Twitter?” muttered Killian, squinting at the icon. It was only then that he realized just what was so disconcerting about the new box. The most recent tweet featured a link with picture of the woman he had met less than twenty-four hours ago.

Curiosity getting the better of him, sidelining any real productivity, Killian clicked on the link, bringing up an article from a local news website. After reading the headline, _Sheriff Swan Announces Plans For Graham’s Spring Run_ , and skimming the article, Killian couldn’t help but mumble, “Is that part of your plan?” For some reason he couldn’t articulate, he doubted the question as soon as he had asked it. It made no sense. Sheriff Graham had died _after_ she had arrived in Rockland. Whatever had brought her here had to have preceded the Sheriff’s sudden heart attack. Starting up a run in his honor had to just be a way for her to mourn a fallen colleague, nothing more.

_What is your plan?_ he wondered silently as he started to type E-M-M-A S-W-A-N into the search bar. 0.58 seconds later, and he found himself with a meager two pages of relevant results. The article he had already visited, white pages for several cities - Boston, Tallahassee, Saint Paul, among others he had never heard of - and a Facebook page. Seeing no other options other than looking up her former residences or looking into women who had names that vaguely resembled Emma Swan, Killian opened the Facebook profile.

“Facebook stalking the new Sheriff?”

Killian almost lept out of his seat at the sound of his partner’s voice. “Damn it, Weaver,” he said, spinning his chair around to face Weaver.

“So is this what passes for courtship these days,” Weaver said walking up to Killian’s desk. He set his steaming mug of coffee down. 

“I’m just trying to figure out what she’s doing here,” said Killian, trying to regain his composure. He looked back at the screen, blue eyes flitting back and forth. “Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be that much information.” Other than a profile picture that only showed her red jacket and the back of her head, her gender, and current city and job, there was nothing visible to the public. “Just stuff we already know.”

Weaver pointed at the monitor. “Look again, detective.”

“What?” he glanced to where Weaver was pointing. “She’s got twelve friends.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So she doesn’t have a social media presence. She could be a private person.” While it was more common than not for people in their twenties to possess more than a few social media and spend a fair bit of time cultivating their online personas, it wasn’t too odd for someone to generally choose not to. It was certainly consistent with the general lack of online presence he had seen in the search. 

“Eleven friends,” corrected Weaver. “Eleven friends and one dead friend.” He nodded at the unmistakable profile picture of the late Graham Humbert. “Who might have been more than a friend.”

“What? You don’t think?” started Killian, his brow furrowing.

As Weaver began to speak, the office door burst open. Quickly Killian closed out of the incriminating browser window.

“Killian,” panted Leroy, “I just went to check in on Alice.”

Dread sank into Killian’s stomach. 

“She’s gone. Not in the conference room. Ruby can’t find her in the bathroom.”

At least Weaver was able to articulate exactly what Killian was feeling. “Fucking hell,” the old detective said.

Shaken, Killian got to his feet. “I was just there with her not too long ago.” He knew his daughter and teenage rebellion well enough to suspect that she wasn’t in the building anymore. “She can’t have gone far.” He hurried to grab his coat. He tugged it on as he nearly ran through the building. 

As soon as he was on the front steps, looking out into the parking lot, Killian realized just what had happened. Apprehensively, he reached down into his pocket, only to find nothing, just as his missing car in the parking lot had lead him to fear. “Christ,” he said, his breath coming out in a thick, anxious cloud.

“What happened?” asked Leroy, opening the door. 

Killian turned around to look at Leroy, Weaver, and Ruby who had all chosen to join him on the steps. “She stole my car.” He let out a nervous laugh, worry beginning to twist his stomach up in knots. “She stole my keys and took the car.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “She doesn’t even know how to drive.” He looked out frantically, scanning the snowy vista, hoping he would see the long gone car, parked safely rather than wrapped around a tree.

“Always full of surprises,” murmured Weaver. He started awkwardly down the steps, avoiding the patches of ice. 

Immediately understanding what was happening, Killian started after his partner.

“Where are you going?” asked Leroy.

“After Alice,” said both detectives in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a cliff hanger there. :) The action is going to be picking up quite a lot from here on out. There will be Emma in the next chapter. And don't worry. Robin will be coming very, very soon and clearing up that whole Ivy mess. ;)  
> And yes, I did throw in a couple of Alice's friends from Wonderland... and other places.  
> Stay tuned!  
> -Morgan


	3. Poetry Failed Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in updating. I am participating in the CSBB, which means that I do spend a fair bit of time writing that fic which will be out in September 2018. I'm very excited about that fic, but I haven't forgotten about Rookland! I wanted to update this fic before the series finale ( ;_____; bye, OUAT, I'll miss you) and give you guys something to prove that I am still working on this fic.

Alice had to wonder how he did it. He always made it look so easy, like it didn’t take any thought or effort. He certainly didn’t look terrified every time he got the car going over twenty miles an hour, that was for sure. Now that her heart was hammering against her rib cage, and her insides had turned to water, she wished that she had paid better attention in the car instead of staring out the window, checking her phone, or singing along with the radio.

Getting out of the parking lot hadn’t taken all that much effort. That was mostly due to the fact that when parking at the station, Detective Jones always backed in, just in case he ever was called on to leave in a hurry.

The turn from the parking lot onto Police Plaza had been sharp, but she had been able to do it very slowly without anyone coming down the road to honk at her. That was the benefit of the off season, she supposed. Few people were ever on the road in the middle of the day. It gave her the the ability to roll along at a panic inducing twenty-miles-per hour without worrying that she would encounter someone on the road. She knew she had to go the speed limit. She had managed to pick that much up from years as a passenger. 

As soon as she reached the intersection, however, she found herself in a quandary. In the one moment of thought that counted as planning for her, she had never really picked a destination. Home was certainly one option, but that would require main roads and a highway. Though she knew it was scarcely a highway by most standards, it was still traveling with other cars, changing lanes, merging, and a whole host of other skills that she was very quickly realizing she hadn’t actually learned through observation. She had done this wanting freedom. She didn’t want to die on the highway because she couldn’t merge. Despite the fact that she hadn’t been able to grab her coat and the heat still hadn’t properly come on, she could feel sweat beginning to dampen her undershirt. What else did that leave?

“‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference,’” recited Alice, remembering the poem that they had read in English class last year. “Road less traveled worked for Frost,” she murmured, “might work now.” It by no means would get her home, but it would at least get her somewhere, and that was good enough for Alice Jones. An adventure, even one that just could wind up with her going in circles, was better than doing homework in a room that Alice was pretty sure was actually an interrogation room, despite her father’s claims that it was an innocent conference room. 

Gently, Alice pressed the gas pedal and turned the wheel, easing onto the next street. It was only after she was fifty feet from the intersection that she even remembered the existence of the turn signal. Her heart started thudding loudly again, believing that she heard sirens over the purr of the engine. After going a hundred feet further down the road, Alice was able to convince herself that it had just been her imagination. She saw no flashing lights or even an approaching car.

Alice kept the car rolling on down the tree lined street. “No sirens. No police,” she said. “Just you, the road, and --” Before she could finish her thought, a reberating _thunk_ pounded the roof. Like electricity, shock rippled through her, jolting her upright, and taking her hand away from the wheel just as the road began to curve. “Shit!” Alice grabbed at the wheel, and gave it a strong tug in the opposite direction. Too strong.

There was only enough time to realize that she was going off the road. She gripped the steering wheel hard, bracing for the coming impact. Alice screwed her eyes shut and waited, holding her breath.

Instead of a smack or explosion, Alice heard a groaning, sickening crunch. 

She opened her eyes and blinked in the bright light reflected off the snow in the park in front of her. “Thank god,” she said, sitting up straight enough to see the almost waist high icy snowbank left by a plow that had stopped her from going forward. She had half expected to find herself wrapped around one of the many trees that lined the street, cushioned by airbags. Fortunately, the mottled grey snowbank had saved her hyde. “Thank you, Snowbank.” She grabbed the gear lever and glanced over her shoulder at the road behind her. No one. 

Shifting into reverse, Alice cautiously pressed the gas pedal. The car refused to budge.

Panic clawed at her chest.

“No,” she said. 

She tried again, pressing harder, but though the engine revved and the wheels growled, the car was decidedly stuck. 

“Is this supposed to be some kind of quid pro quo?” Alice shouted over the engine at the snowbank. “You save me, but you’re lonely and want company or something?” 

Resigned, she sank down back into the seat. Her heart was hammering against her sternum, making her breakfast sit uneasy. “Well, you’ve done it now, Alice,” she murmured, looking up at the roof of the car. She could no longer even remember why she had taken the car. For a stupid reason. “You got a stupid idea, so you had to go and do the stupid thing.” She put her hands over her face. “And now you’re stuck. Being held prisoner.” 

She tried to keep her breathing steady, hoping it would prevent her from crying in frustration and shame that yet again, she had managed to get herself into a situation for which there was no good outcome. It had barely been twenty-four hours, and Alice knew that she was already in more trouble than she had been before. Her efforts to spare herself tears were soon thwarted, and she felt the dampness against her hands begin to dribble down her cheeks into her hair and ears.

A soft wrap on the window made Alice spread her fingers so that she could see just who was outside her car.

“Sheriff Swan?” stammered Alice. She wiped her face with the sleeve her shirt, relieved that she hadn’t developed a runny nose the way she often had when she cried. 

“Car trouble?” asked the woman, resting one hand on the roof of the car so she could better look into the car. Her voice was muted by the glass between them and the still going engine.

Alice could see that the sheriff was smiling slightly, her eyes crinkling with what Alice could only guess was amusement. “Uh… something… like that....” She reached over to open the door.

The sheriff stepped out of the way to allow Alice to swing the door outwards. “Something like running away in your father’s cop car and then crashing it into a snowbank?” The question wasn’t at all accusatory. “Not the best getaway vehicle, kid. Any law enforcement officer and a lot of criminals would spot it and recognize it.”

“I wasn’t running away,” Alice said. She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. “I was just… I don’t know.” She shivered and shrugged her shoulders. 

“You weren’t thinking,” said Sheriff Swan with a small nod. She walked around to assess the front of the car, squinting in the bright light. 

“Not much,” confessed Alice. “It’s kind of… been a trend.” She rubbed her arms through her flannel. “Recently.”

“Hence the Suspension Day.” The Sheriff’s smile faded. “We’ve all got to go through something like that.” She paused for a moment, seemingly recalling something from years ago, while Alice tried not to let just how scared she was show. 

“Really? Seems like I’m the only one who’s getting these dumb ideas and can’t stop herself until it’s done,” grumbled Alice. Even if Bill and Will occasionally did crazy things, and Dinah had impulsively dyed her hair blue despite knowing her parents wouldn’t approve, they didn’t do things like this. They knew how to stop themselves. At least, that’s the way it felt to Alice.

The Sheriff didn’t reply. In fact, it seemed that he was lost in thought. Finally, coming out of her reverie, the woman said, “I didn’t actually get your name yesterday.”

“Alice.”

The older blonde walked around the car. “Well, Alice, you’re not hurt, and you haven’t done too much damage, but you’ve made a nice dent, and your father’s going to have to get the paint fixed. I think that it’s time that we called your father and let him know that you’re okay.”

“Okay,” Alice said, knowing that there was no way to convince an officer of the law that they didn’t have to tell her father. “He took my phone though, so I can’t call him. Bet he regrets that now.”

Sheriff Swan shook her head, and with a sigh she pulled a phone out of the pocket of her puffy black coat. “What’s his number?” she asked.

Alice squinted dubiously at the woman. “Do I look like I’m thirty? I only know my number, home, and 9-1-1.” 

The adult sighed and removed a glove and quickly began tapping away at the phone. After a few moments, she held the phone up to her ear. “Hello, Ruby, is it? It’s Sheriff Swan. Listen, can you let Detective Weaver know I’ve got his daughter --”

“Jones,” interrupted Alice. “My dad’s Detective Jones.”

For a moment, the Sheriff’s eyes went wide, but she quickly recovered and said, “Detective Jones. Tell Detective Jones I’ve got Alice. She’s fine. We’re at…”

Alice turned around to look across the road to the trees on the other side. She had recognized that look in Sheriff Swan’s eyes. In the past fourteen years, Alice had seen the shocked expressions more times than she could count. Each time she had had to explain when she was little that that was her father, not her babysitter that came to pick her up from kindergarten or would chase her around the park, Alice had been puzzled by the frequent mistake. It hadn’t been until she was in the third grade at the talent show that she had looked around at her classmates’ parents and realized that even though her Papa was ‘old,’ these parents were _old_. Her father wasn’t like the other parents, and when she had pointed that out to him, she had thought he would laugh along with her over how silly it was that everyone else was so old. 

The expression on his face had made her stomach sink to her feet, and she had been sure then that her Papa would start crying the way he had when he had explained to her that no, she never would get to see Uncle Liam again a few years before. She had thrown her arms around his waist and held fast, as if the tighter she squeezed, the better her Papa would feel. 

Now every time she had to explain who her father was, Alice watched for the shock and dared them to show any signs of pity as they did the mental math. At least with Sheriff Swan, there hadn’t been a hint of pity, just surprise. 

That made her better than most.

***

“Thank you, Ruby,” stammered Killian, feeling the tightness in his chest finally beginning to ease up. “We’ll go right over there. Thank you.” He could practically cry with relief as he hung up the phone and turned his face to Weaver, who took his eyes off the road long enough to see his partner’s face in the rearview mirror.

“They found her?” Weaver asked, his voice quivering apprehensively.

Killian nodded, his heart rate still yet to return back to normal. “She’s fine. And she didn’t even get too far.” And not on the highway. At least his worst fears could be dismissed from his mind, and he could ignore the visions built on memories of accidents he had been called to in the past. She was alive and unharmed. She wasn’t in the hospital or worse. 

“Where?” asked Weaver. No sooner had Killian supplied the location did the older detective switch on the siren.

Flinching at the unexpected sound, Killian said, “Jesus, Weaver.”

“I can turn it off,” his partner yelled.

Killian shook his head. “No, I agree with the urgency. Just a little warning next time!” he shouted back at his partner, as Weaver turned the police car around so they were facing back from where they had come. Killian braced himself against the dashboard as Weaver accelerated, hurtling them back in Alice’s direction. 

Less than ten minutes later, Killian spied his car pressed nose first against a snowbank, a familiar figure standing beside the ill-steered car. “There!” he said, though he knew that Weaver had already seen her. 

The sirens were mercifully turned off, and Weaver slowed the car, before finally pulling up beside a car that Killian hadn’t noticed before. _Sheriff_. He barely gave it a thought. He was already reaching down to unbuckle his seatbelt. Fluidly, he pushed the door open and leapt out of the car. “Alice!” he shouted, running around the two cars to finally reach his shivering, tearstained daughter. “Oh thank God, Alice.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly, reassuring himself that she was in fact unharmed. He was relieved to feel her lean into the hug, allowing him to kiss the top of her head. 

“Papa,” came Alice’s muffled voice.

“Alice, please,” protested Killian, wanting one moment of a happy reunion with his daughter before he had to begin to think about just how he would address her latest and worst recalcitrant caper. He gave her a final tight squeeze before he stepped back and shrugged off his jacket. “Take this,” he said. “You’re shivering.” It was cold without his jacket, but he wasn’t about to stand by and let his daughter freeze. 

In thanks, Alice offered a small smile, nervously looking up at him.

Killian looked away from his daughter, finally able to take in everything. The dented car. The thankfully thick and frozen solid snow bank that held his car captive. The tree that, had his daughter been going a little bit faster or had there been less snow this winter, Alice had almost hit. It almost made him ill to think of how in another universe, this escapade had not had a happy ending.

Turning around, Killian looked back for his partner, only to find that Weaver had been joined by that same woman who’s online presence he had been investigating not more than an hour before. He swallowed. “Sheriff Swan,” he said hoarsely. “You found Alice.”

Emma took a few steps forward. “I saw a car off the road in a snowdrift,” she said. “Couldn’t just drive past it.”

Killian had a feeling that even if she hadn’t been the sheriff, Emma Swan would have stopped seeing a car on the side of the road like this. 

“Thank you,” he said, finding those two syllables far too insufficient to convey just how much gratitude he had for the woman.

“Don’t thank me yet, Detective Jones,” said Emma with a sigh. “Alice was driving a police car… I assume without a license.” The Sheriff paused as if giving any of the three people around her a chance to correct her. “Now, I don’t have jurisdiction here, but this is still pretty serious. She could have really hurt someone, including herself.”

“You don’t have to remind us of that, Sheriff,” said Weaver. “We’ve both seen our fair share of accidents.”

Wordlessly, Killian nodded.

“I won’t do it again,” came Alice’s voice, as she stepped up to join the three adults. “I don’t like driving. I don’t think I’m going to drive even when I turn sixteen.”

“Al,” sighed Killian. He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be grounded until you’re eighteen. Driving when you’re sixteen is no longer an option.” He wished that he were joking, but after the scare she had given him and the number of laws Alice had broken today, he knew that it would be a very long time before he would ever feel comfortable letting her get behind the wheel of a car again.

Alice’s lack of complaints about the threat of four years worth of punishment only confirmed to Killian just how upsetting the experience had been for her. _Let this be the last time she pulls a stunt like this,_ he thought. It was a wish that he had made many times in the past few months, and now he was more worried than ever about what would happen if his hopes about his daughter’s future behavior were dashed.

“Rest assured that we will impress on her the importance of doing such reckless things ever again,” said Weaver. “So you needn’t worry about Alice whilst on the road.”

Emma stood silently considering the three of them for Killian to become uneasy under the intensity of her scrutiny. Finally, Emma opened her mouth as if to speak, but before she could say anything, static from the Sheriff’s radio. “I’ve got to go see what that was about,” Emma said, before walking back to her white and green patrol car.

“Can we go home?” asked Alice softly once the Sheriff was in her car.

Killian looked from his daughter to his partner and sighed. “I think that’s probably for the best.” The Captain would be none too pleased that he had suddenly taken the day off, but Killian knew that after what the both of them had been through, there was no place like home. “But first…” He walked over to the passenger side door of his car. After a moment of fumbling around, in the passenger seat well, he emerged carrying the portable shovel he saved for snow emergencies, “We’re going to have to free this car.”

“I think there’s a shovel in the cruiser,” said Weaver, starting to walk towards the car he and Killian had arrived in. 

“I’ll take M.R.’s shovel,” sighed Alice, leaning up against the trunk of the car. “Only seems fair.”

“I will certainly appreciate the help,” Killian said, even though he was fairly sure that Alice would find it difficult to carve the car out of the iced-over snowbank. 

Killian himself had only managed to chip away a couple shovels worth of grey snow when he heard Emma’s voice.

“Detective Jones.”

Killian straightened up. “Sheriff Swan.”

The Sheriff put her hands in her back pockets. “I’ve got to go and deal with something on the highway. But listen…” She took a couple of steps closer to Killian. Her voice dropped low as she spoke, green eyes flitting over to where Alice stood, waiting for Weaver to return with the shovel. “Can you call me and let me know how Alice is doing? She was pretty upset, and I…” She shook her head and retreated. “Just let me know.”

The strangeness of the request struck him dumb. All he could do was nod.

“Thanks,” she said. She gave Killian a very quick smile before she turned around and went back to her car.

Killian was still staring at the bend in the road where Emma’s sheriff car had vanished from view when Weaver returned with a shovel and a bemused expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I had hoped to get to Robin in this chapter, but unfortunately, the chapter was getting a little bit too long, and my desire to post a chapter in a reasonable amount of time outweighed my desire to get to Robin in this chapter. I am very sorry. Robin will definitely be appearing _extremely_ soon. She is a major character in this fic. I just needed to get Alice to a place where she could have the chance to meet her. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience. I know that I'm slow, and I'm long-winded at times, and that being busy means you don't get updates as much. Thanks for sticking with me and not abandoning this fic. Thank you for any kudos or comments you leave. Kudos and comments are author food, and we appreciate getting feedback (however small or short) about our work. Keeps us going when we're frustrated and struggling for time and energy to write.
> 
> Thanks!  
> Morgan


End file.
